


Cathartic

by OsirisGalaxy



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: M/M, Suicide Attempt, mentions of past violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 19:49:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4679147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OsirisGalaxy/pseuds/OsirisGalaxy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There isn’t a good reason.” Ryou said right before Marik moved his arm. He looked back up at him, something like fire buried in his dark eyes. “That’s why you have to make one. I know one thing about you Marik, and it’s that you work nonstop to come out on top. I’ve seen that much. So why are you giving up now?” Post-Battle City. Angstshipping. May become nsfw in later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cathartic

“Please don’t do this.”

Marik was accustomed to screaming when he removed the rod from its sheath, usually because it was less than a second later when it was embedded into the hollow of someone’s throat or under their kneecap. There wasn’t usually any time for pleading.

“Why not.” It wasn’t posed a question, not really, just stalling. The point of the rod was pose neatly at his eye, hovering only centimeters away from his thousand yard stare. He was surprised that Ryou had even found him. Most everyone was milling about the first class cabin of the plane at that point, relieved and dazed from the explosion that consumed Alcatraz. Kaiba really had thing for theatrics it seemed. But Marik wasn’t so idle. He stole the rod from the Pharaoh and snuck to the back of the plane with relative ease, he had been a more hands-on thief at one point after all, pickpocketing was the first practical skill he ever learned. A skill that only grew like a cancer along his fingers, infecting every piece of him until only darkness remained.

Ryou didn’t look scared or worried, instead he was perfectly calm, as if he had dealt with this many times before. Most likely with himself, if Marik had to guess. Having a malicious spirit feasting on your mind could drive you to drastic measures, like the kind he was seconds away from taking. The rod’s point gleamed in the sunlight that flickered from behind the clouds as they soared from the sky. Moments ago the sun had been bright and beautiful, but as noon closed that was no longer the case. “Your brother and sister-”

“Would’ve been better off if I had never been born.” Marik finally showed some emotion, which was a snarl of simmering anger, but his gaze was still straight ahead. “That’s not an exaggeration.”

“I don’t know much about you Marik-”

“That’s right. So I don’t see why you’re still here.”

“Let me finish. I do know that you’ve been through a lot these past few days, longer probably. But this,” He gestured at the rod. “Can’t be it.”

Marik bit the inside of his cheek for a moment. “After everything I’ve done, it is. You don’t know the half of it.”

“We have time.” Ryou took a step closer, and when Marik didn’t move he carefully took a seat to him on the floor. They were shielded from view by the curtains and the economy kitchen, where coffee pots and tiny bottles of Jack Daniels stared at them. Marik couldn’t see how was still cool and collected when the person next to him was moments away from gouging a blade through his own skull. “Go ahead.”

“Why should I tell you anything?”

“Think of it as a confession.”

“I don’t believe in that.”

“What do you believe in?”

That made him think for a moment. There was what he was raised with, believing in the Pharaoh as salvation, as a God waiting to be reunited with the rest. Then by extension there was the pantheon, believing in Ra, Osiris, Horus, that endless, arbitrary list. Then there were more practical things, believing in power, in force, in the quickness of one’s own wits. None of this had served him in the end. “I don’t believe in anything.”

“I don’t either. Mostly.”

“Mostly.”

“I believe in ghosts, but I don’t think that counts.”

“Of course you believe in ghosts, you’ve been possessed by one for Ra knows how long.”

Ryou shrugged. “Possessed is a strong word. He didn’t do anything that I didn’t let him do.”

That made Marik look away from the rod and focus on Ryou. “Even getting your arm ripped open?”

“Well he took that farther than I wanted him to.” Ryou actually laughed a little, but when his hand brushed against the bandage on his arm he winced. “But I wanted to find out more about the items, about you.”

“What?”

“Yeah. You and your family know more about them than anyone else. I’ve been trying to figure out what their purpose is and what it has to do with the spirit and I for a while now.”  
Since when was he so devious? Marik lowered the rod, but not for long, he couldn’t let his resolve break now, and he focus on the point with a new vigor. “Well I have nothing further to tell you. That spirit of yours made sure of that.”

“I didn’t ask for anything, did I?”

“You might as well have. I’m not here to reveal your divine purpose or whatever. I’m done with that, with everything. I’ve already caused enough harm.”

“Marik-”

“I’ve killed people, and I’ve hurt more. It was my other personality that hurt you and your friends, I was the reason your body was incinerated by Ra. I’m the reason my brother and sister have suffered so much, and I’m also the reason my father and mother are dead and my clan is desecrated. I haven’t done a good thing my entire life, so what reason do I have to keep on living?” Ryou went silent at that, and he stared at the ground. Marik felt his eyes burn with bitter tears, but he wouldn’t let them fall, he didn’t deserve it. He closed his eyes for a moment as he mustered the force it would take to drive the rod through his eye socket.

“There isn’t a good reason.” Ryou said right before Marik moved his arm. He looked back up at him, something like fire buried in his dark eyes. “That’s why you have to make one. I know one thing about you Marik, and it’s that you work nonstop to come out on top. I’ve seen that much. So why are you giving up now?”

His throat felt raw and sore from the tension he was holding, from how much he wanted to break down and cry, but he couldn’t do that in front of other people, he knew that from long nights of laying awake on beds of straw in anonymous Egyptian villages, trying to keep Rishid from seeing such weakness. He could’ve given up then, could’ve used the rod when they were delirious from starvation in the desert, could’ve done it when they thought they would never find the other God cards, or when his other personality had taken over. But he had still gone to the spirit, and after that found his sister. He was nothing if not tenacious.

So why was he giving up now?

Because he was worthless, a killer, a monster, but that’s not how Rishid and Isis saw him, and apparently it wasn’t how Ryou saw him either. He didn’t see what they did, but if it made Rishid and Isis fight that hard to keep alive, then there had to be something. He wanted to know what that was, to understand. He would have to be around for at least a little longer to find out.

Marik lowered the rod and sheathed it without a word, and he found Ryou gently taking it from his hand and placing it far away from the both of them, but then his pale fingers were woven through Marik’s dark ones. Normally he would’ve found it invasive and overstepping a boundry, but touch was exactly what he needed after years without it, especially something so gentle and lacking in expectation. 

When Ryou squeezed his hand, he squeezed back.


End file.
